


Meet Me in the Bathroom

by chucks_prophet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel in the Bunker, Castiel is Not Innocent, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dean is a Softie, Dean to the Rescue, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Fluff, Human Castiel, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, Might Actually Give You Cavities, Naked Castiel, Set sometime in the OBVIOUSLY very distant future, Showering Castiel, Showering Mishaps, Showers, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, You Have Been Warned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 06:08:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7032373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The whimpering sound not only continues, it gets louder. </p><p>He can’t stop the grin melting his face like whipped cream on a fresh cherry pie—and turning the color, too. The thought of Cas going to town on himself is as endearing as it is hot. </p><p>(Or the one where not everything is as it seems in the proudly-proclaimed Winchester household.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meet Me in the Bathroom

**Author's Note:**

> Song referenced is The Strokes' "Meet Me in the Bathroom".

 

 

_We were just two friends in lust_

_And baby, that just don't mean much_

_You trained me not to love_

_After you showed me what it was_

Dean has to pass by one more time to hear it.

It’s a low, but audible sound, almost like a soft moan or the _uh oh_ in “The Cell Block Tango”.

Dean’s eyebrows level as he treads closer to the door. Steam blows out from the bottom like a Coloradan on a marijuana hoard, and the sound of the shower water still beats the porcelain like an average day in Seattle, but sure enough, the whimpering sound not only continues, it gets _louder_. Sam’s downstairs, racking his brain over some case in Montana involving missing brains (Dean’s holding out for zombies), so that only leaves one person to the upstairs bathroom.

Now, Dean’s not one to stop someone from taking a journey to the land of the pines, but he and Cas have been dating for a little over a month, and the dorky little guy’s shown no sign of wanting to upgrade to Windows 10. It’s not like he hasn’t given Castiel every opportunity, too—from make out sessions where Dean’s back practically fucks the wall of his bedroom (and Sam’s once, but that’s their secret), and other slower, more intimate embraces where one of them is leaving a trail of love bites not even Sacagawea could follow…

Point _is,_ Cas hasn’t shown interest in anything beyond first base. Like Dean when it came to professing his feelings for the angel, Cas likes taking things slow, and Dean, well, Dean Sex-Hungry Winchester is surprisingly _okay_ with the PG rom-com affection. It gives him time to appreciate the relationship.

He can’t stop the grin melting his face like whipped cream on a fresh cherry pie—and turning the color, too. The thought of Cas going to town on himself is as endearing as it is hot.

Before he knows it, Dean’s palming the door knob and cracking the door open just slightly. The moaning noise comes through stronger than before—louder, needier—as he tip-toes past the toilet. He can see the faint outline of Cas’s jagged silhouette behind the stark white curtains. If there’s one thing Dean’s learned falling asleep on of the guy, it’s that not a single part of him comes in a size regular. _Everything’_ s in extra bulk, specifically his arms and his thighs. And his lips, oh man, those lips…

“ _Dean_.”

Shit. “Cas?”

“Dean,” replies Cas breathily, “I need—” The sound of something climaxing in his throat interrupts his one-word mantra, but Dean’s quick on his feet. Not because the new sound is orgasmic, but tragic.  

Cas isn’t moaning, he’s crying.

“Cas?!” Dean nearly throws the curtain off half its rings pulling it back. He can see Cas now, his long, slender hands shielding his eyes like they’re made of laser beams. Dean slams the nozzle shut before stepping into the shower. He tries not to forcibly grab Cas and send them both on the floor. “Cas, look at me, what’s wrong?”

“I… I can’t…”

“What do you mean you can’t??”

“I… I can’t see. The shampoo, it stings. It hurts so bad, Dean.”

Dean knows he shouldn’t, but he actually chuckles. His hold on Cas loosens until he’s sliding his arms around his back. Dean keeps him close despite Cas murmuring “ _What’s so funny?”_ into the crook of his neck as vanilla mango shampoo slithers down the back of Dean’s purple flannel.

Dean’s hand skates up the smooth, wet ramp of Cas’s back until he’s cupping his face. Cas looks at Dean through squinty red eyes before blinking once, twice then: “It’s—it’s gone… how did you do that?”

“It’s shampoo, Cas, not snake venom,” he laughs again, “it goes away. Although, it _does_ sting like a bitch.”

“So this has happened to you?” Cas sniffles, blue eyes imploring. Dean brushes back a thick soapy strand of hair from Cas’s forehead and nods.

“Oh yeah. Once, Dad dropped me and Sam in Anaheim. Sam was about 2 or 3, kid smelt like a dumpster baby, let me tell you. Of course _I_ had the luxury of washing his stinky ass, and the little rebel; he flung shampoo in my eyes. And it was _bad,_ I mean you think name-brand shampoo stings, try Motel 8 Pantene.”

“Being human sucks. I don’t know how you do it.”

“ _Years_ of practice, baby.” Cas huffs into his shoulder, moans turning into soft sighs as he goes pliant in Dean’s embrace. It’s almost like there’s music playing in the background, and they’re softly swaying to the beat, and yeah, Sam’s right, Dean _does_ love chick-flick moments. “You know, you really had me worried there.”

“Sorry.”

“I mean, not the _whole_ time. For a second, I thought…”

Cas peels back from Dean like string cheese, scrunching his face. “You thought what?”

“I thought, you know,” says Dean, moving his hand from the small of his back to his bare, jutting hipbone, careful not to brush over a much longer and duller bone, “you were, uh…exploring your humanity a little more.”

Cas’s eyebrows slowly climb to his forehead, which starts to look like it’s been slammed against a hot burner. Dean loves seeing Cas this way, because he knows only Dean can bring it on. “Oh, I, uh… I mean I’ve done… _that_ … but, no, I—showers are for a different purpose, are they not?”

Dean’s head drops until his sparkling greens meet Cas’s shifty blues. “Wait, you mean to tell me you’ve... why wasn’t I invited to that show?”

“Well, I mean… I’d need a minute to get ready, but I can do it—if you want, I mean, it’s not—”

Dean surges forward and kisses the words from Cas’s mouth, tasting a little bit of shampoo and minty toothpaste stuck behind his pearly whites from his last oral car wash. Cas kisses back, albeit a little breathlessly being caught off guard. “No,” Dean says, smiling down at him, “you’re perfect. _We’re_ perfect.”

 

_We were just two fucks in lust_

_And baby, that just don't mean much_

_You trained me not to love_

_After you taught me what it was_


End file.
